


Crowley and Aziraphale's Ultimate Guide to Being Terribly Exceptional and Exceptionally Terrible

by memoriesandnights



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Tempts Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Drunk Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Pining Aziraphale (Good Omens), Possessive Crowley, Protective Crowley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-19 02:55:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19348087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memoriesandnights/pseuds/memoriesandnights
Summary: So...the apocalypse didn't happen. By all means, it was irresponsibly prevented by a demon, an angel, an 11-year-old boy, and an ineffable plan.   The only question is really what happens after all of that? Life should return to normal, at least after a while. But...what does normal look like after so much abnormal? In all of the chaos, Crowley and Aziraphale found themselves closer than ever, but as the demon points out, there is no normal anymore. They have the opportunity to spend the next 1000 years doing whatever they want, with no constrictions to good, or evil. In Aziraphale's opinion, this is absolutely the worst thing that could ever happen, but with a little bit of temptation, they can find their new life together, and how to stay on humanity's side despite all the things they very much so do not understand.





	1. Getting Started

**Author's Note:**

> This is based mostly on the television show, with influences taken from the book.

The apocalypse...didn't happen. For some odd reason, the two who are responsible...or more appropriately, _irresponsible_ for it, have no idea what they're doing. Stumbling around London, drunk on champagne, having celebrated their success at the Ritz (of course, at Aziraphale's request), the two were feeling joyous. Stupid, but nevertheless joyous.

Aziraphale chuckled, struggling to even put his key in his slot.

"I think I'm a little too drunk to even do this, Crowley," Aziraphale laughed. The demon cackled so hard at just the concept, he nearly fell over. This made Aziraphale laugh even harder, making it exponentially more difficult for him to open his door. Crowley, in a moment of sober logic, snapped his fingers, and the door unlocked.

"Oh, well, thank you, Crowley," Aziraphale smiled, his laughter trailing off. "But you can't just be performing miracles wildly like that."

"Did you forget already? They're terrified of us back at head office," Crowley said, following Aziraphale into the bookshop.

"No...but...you never know," Aziraphale mumbled.

"Never know what?" Crowley asked.

"I...forget," Aziraphale laughed again.

Crowley chuckled again, equally as powerful, nearly falling over yet again.

This moment of peace had not been lost on Crowley, even in his drunken stupor. Everything about this moment was special to him. The most stressful week in his entire 6,000 years of being had come to a close and had done so with him enjoying tea at the Ritz with his favorite angel, and heading into his bookshop to continue to the fun before the sun had even set. It was quite the perfect end to a rather terrible week.

"You don't always have to follow me, Crowley," Aziraphale answered.

"Isn't it a bit of our tradition to get absolutely smashed every so often?"

"Yes, when things are hard. We had quite the success though!"

"We had the most difficult week of our existence. We had to do a hell of a lot to prevent _ending_ our existence. I think we deserve a bit more alcohol," Crowley sneered. Aziraphale couldn't help but giggle like a little boy. A combination of the alcohol, and watching Crowley get so upset at the notion of him being even the slightest bit irritated by his presence.

The moment had been slightly lost on Aziraphale. Aziraphale's love for the Ritz (more realistically, food in general) could overshadow anything. Even the apocalypse.

Aziraphale smiled and collapsed into a chair. It had taken a lot of work not to stumble on his way to his living room. He watched as Crowley didn't stumble at all. He simply grabbed a bottle of wine off of the desk and collapsed into the sofa opposite of Aziraphale. Aziraphale smiled and picked up the bottle himself, waiting until Crowley opened it. Crowley stared at him, watching as Aziraphale waited for permission, before rolling his eyes which were still hidden behind his sunglasses, and taking a large swig from the bottle. After thoroughly rolling his eyes, he threw off his sunglasses.

No matter how much he might roll his eyes, Crowley still knows that Aziraphale is just naturally good. It'll take a little temptation to get him to do anything, even if they've done it a million times at this point. He doesn't mind tempting Aziraphale though. It's always worth the effort to watch him have at least a little fun. It's not to say Aziraphale doesn't have fun though. In Aziraphale's mind, he's having plenty of fun, all of the time. Crowley will probably always doubt that Aziraphale is having fun, just because his definition of fun isn't quite the same.

"Do something or I'll never talk to you again," Crowley repeated.

"What?"

"That's what you said. Before The Great Adversary himself showed up. What kind of threat is that?"

"Oh! Well! It worked didn't it?" Aziraphale answered.

Crowley thought for a moment. It certainly did work. The brief moments Crowley thought he was without Aziraphale for eternity sent him into a complete spiral. He couldn't even imagine the pain he would have if Aziraphale voluntarily refused to be with him.

"I guess it did," Crowley slurred. He took a much larger swig of his drink. He wasn't drunk enough to forget the past week, and that's where he needed to get.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, followed much more slowly. He couldn't drink as fast as Crowley, even if it's just wine. He gets a little too nervous about it. I mean, how else has he kept his jacket in such good condition for so long?

"An...angel?" Crowley groaned. Well, he was certainly drunk enough now.

"Yes?" Aziraphale answered, still sober enough to avoid slurring.

"What do we do now that the ap...apoca...polka....apoc..." Crowley struggled.

"A-polka-lisp," Aziraphale nodded. Well, drunk enough not to slur through some words. Apocalypse is a very difficult word to say.

"Exactly," Crowley smiled. "What do we do now that _that_ is over?"

"I suppose we keep doing what we've been doing for the past 6,000 years."

"No, Aziraphale. For the past siz-sis-six thousand years, we've been working for other people. We have a good thou-though-thousand years with them off of our backs."

"Is that true?" Aziraphale thought. He supposed it was. They had managed to terrify the absolute hell and heaven out of their respective head offices. He does not like that fact very much at all. Aziraphale loves his freedom down on Earth, but too much freedom scares him. He likes just a little bit of order. Just enough control to give him a path. Too much and he feels constrained, but not enough and he spirals. He nervously took a much larger swig of his wine.

"Don't worry. I'll keep you gro-grund-grounded," Crowley winked, clearly too drunk to form coherent sentences. Aziraphale's face went from pale fear to a soft rose-colored hue and a small smile. "Or, fallen, rather."

Aziraphale's expression dropped. Clearly, Crowley was too drunk to form coherent sentences, but not drunk enough to lose his biting wit. "No!" Aziraphale protested, taking another swig of his wine, and Crowley followed, smirking the whole time. The moment was finally beginning to become lost on Crowley, and he was thankful for it. To just be ignorant, would be absolute bliss. He can work his way there with plenty of wine. Aziraphale had no need to forget, but nevertheless the desire to remember how being recorporated feels. Having your body back inherently means accepting all the good and bad that comes with it. In Aziraphale's opinion, drunkenness is both the fun good stuff and the ugly bad stuff. It's a quick way to feel like you're one with yourself again. 

Crowley kicked up his feet on Aziraphale's sofa, feeling entitled to the space he takes up. Aziraphale might've been the slightest bit irritated at the demon ruining his fine fabric, but was too drunk, and was instead satisfied by Crowley's comfort. The demon rarely ever felt so comfortable and allowed himself to be so vulnerable. For Aziraphale...this was his finest and weakest point. Aziraphale was consistently vulnerable by nature. His naivety rarely ever made him more closed off. Crowley, by his nature, on the other hand, knows the complexities of evil. How it works, and how it can affect everyone. He has seen both good and bad, done both good and bad, and worked for both good and bad. He's far more closed off, and most of the time, he's alright with that. There's no harm in avoiding harm unless by doing so, you happen to hurt who you love most. This past week had sent shockwaves through that very concept. He had hurt Aziraphale too many times to count, and vice versa of course. 

This isn't to say Aziraphale is perfectly good either. Aziraphale has his moments where he is, in Crowley's words, just the tiniest bit bastard. He knows, of course, that he can hurt Crowley sometimes, especially when he cannot do everything he asks. He wouldn't like to admit this, but when he does do what Crowley asks, he feels just the slightest bit happy. Usually, that happiness is compounded with kilos and kilos of guilt, but luckily for Crowley, the guilt rarely lasts longer than a split second, and that small bit of happiness takes over. Doing bad usually makes someone feel terribly good, and doing good can make someone feel terribly bad.

Angels and demons are not immune to this by any means.

Crowley smirked, drinking even more wine. At this point, Aziraphale doubted Crowley even tasted the wine, so much as just inhaled it. Aziraphale, on the other hand, tasted the wine. Not just the taste of fermented grapes, but as though he was a sommelier, picking up on hints of things that weren't even there. Some time went by, with the two just getting even drunker, and every so often laughing at jokes that didn't even exist.

"But that's my point, Angel!" Crowley announced. Whenever Crowley was drunk, he quite suddenly had a myriad of points to make. "You think...We thought. All of us thought!"

Aziraphale nodded along, absolutely positive he knew what Crowley was talking about. _We all thought that._ We all thought what exactly? Well, Aziraphale couldn't be bothered to know what we all thought it. Absolutely. And he agrees.

"He's the...and I'm the...Archangel fucking Gabriel!" Crowley yelled, standing up and hissing afterward. Aziraphale rarely ever heard Crowley hiss, but he was far too drunk to care. 

"Gube," Aziraphale answered.

" _Exactly!_ Ga...Gabriel! Fucking twat," Crowley sat back.

"T-t-t," Aziraphale struggled.

"T-t-t _wat_ ," Crowley finished for him. Aziraphale nodded. 

"But yeah! That fu-friendly feller! He's...he's...and Michael! And...well..erry-every-nobody knows," Aziraphale answered.

"Knows what?" Crowley questioned, slurring, and barely managing not to hiss. 

"Knows he  _sucks!_ " Aziraphale dared to announce. Crowley rolled his eyes because as it turned out, he had not gotten them all out earlier. How could he have? He wasn't expecting the angel to act like the worst thing he could say was 'sucks.' Nevertheless, he was thankful for his friend. They were finally able to enjoy a nightcap (albeit with the sun still up), for the first time, in a long while. 

~

Crowley woke up with a pounding headache. Thankfully, it's part of his motif to always have sunglasses on hand. He reached onto the table behind him and picked up the pair, which had somehow become bent in whatever had happened the night before. All he knew is that he had clearly managed to tempt both himself and his angel into getting far too drunk. It hadn't taken much on his own end. Unfortunately, he still remembered the past week but had forgotten the night before. Why hadn't he realized that was the far more likely possibility? He looked around at the room, searching for Aziraphale. He knows the man has no need to sleep, and truthfully neither does Crowley. When demons sleep, they always get nightmares. Most of the time, it's just other demons entering their psyche to mess with them, but sometimes it's something darker, something no one can understand. Crowley likes to roll the dice though and see what Hell can throw at him. Last night, however, he not only did not have a nightmare but instead just remembered December 31st, 1999. That was a good day. Truly, one of the last good days.

To his dismay, the angel was nowhere to be found. He took the opportunity to smell his breath, cupping his hands to his mouth. _Ugh._ He thought. _My breath smells like whiskey and cigarettes_. To be fair, whiskey and cigarettes are much better smelling than most demons. Crowley prided himself on being far more tasteful than other demons. Most demons might find joy in living in squalor (or being squalor for that matter), but Crowley finds joy in the less viscerally repulsing. Demonic intervention need not be disgusting, in Crowley’s opinion. In fact, it’s the smaller inconveniences that can really tempt people. Crowley’s expression of rebellion to the rebellion includes his excellent fashion choices, divine interior design, and of course his hair.

Speaking of his hair, it must’ve gotten at least a little rustled up the night before. Crowley stood up staring into the window. He pulled each strand individually into its proper place.

“Oh! You’re awake! Would you like some tea?” Aziraphale asked, appearing directly behind Crowley. Crowley jumped and sighed immediately.

“Aziraphale, what the hell?” He asked, sneering.

“I’m sorry! So sorry!” Aziraphale nearly cried throwing down the ornate tray he was carrying, onto his desk. A fine china teapot and two floral cups lined dainty dollies on the silver tray. The tray was pure silver, which Aziraphale had kept in peak condition, without tarnish, since 1800. The fine china teapot he would not dare admit that he bought 6 years ago when it was on sale.

“Well, it’s not that serious,” Crowley mumbled, feeling at least a little bad for making Aziraphale feel so guilty.

“How do you take your tea?” Aziraphale asked, calmly standing over his teapot.

“After all these years you don’t know?”

“Well, it’s polite to ask...”

“Black.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Because that’s what I say every time.”

Aziraphale nodded, and Crowley shook his head disappointedly. Aziraphale absolutely could not tell, but Crowley’s biting wit was not a product of him having a headache as he would surely chalk it up to. It was none more than an expression of love for the person he had realized he could not live without. Why, Crowley only saved his best remarks for the best people. Crowley smiled softly as Aziraphale handed him the tea. The angel was humming as he bounced softly at his desk, pouring and making his own cup of tea. 4 sugar cubes, and a teaspoon of milk. Sweet and pale, just like the angel himself. He sat down and sipped his tea, pretending to look over his work, while secretly hoping Crowley would make some conversation. 

Crowley stared at the cup of tea, watching as the leaves in the bag floated around, delicately going up, and going down. He had never stayed the night at Aziraphale's, and he was feeling a little bit off about it. He couldn't remember at all, and he wasn't sure why neither of them had elected to make themselves go sober. Well, actually, Aziraphale seems to be perfectly fine. Maybe he had made himself go sober but hadn't asked Crowley to. 

"Aziraphale, why didn't you send me home?" Crowley finally asked. This was not the conversation, Aziraphale had been looking for whatsoever, but it'll have to do.

"Well, you were far too drunk. I kept asking you to sober up, and I'm not sure if you even understood me. God forbid, you decide to drive like that," He explained. "But it's quite alright. You looked quite peaceful after you fell asleep, and I just couldn't bring myself to wake you."

Crowley hid his blush by finally sipping the tea. 6000 years had gone by, and he'd never gotten an invitation to stay over. Turns out, the demon's drunk-self was not so appreciative of that notion, whatsoever. 

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry," Crowley apologized. "I might've had one drink too much."

 _One?_ Aziraphale thought.  _That was not just one._

"It's alright, my dear," Aziraphale answered. 

"Well...I'll head out then," Crowley sighed setting down his cup. This was awkward, even for Crowley, and he had no idea what to do considering there was nothing to do. He stood up and approached the door.

"Goodbye, Zira," He waved heading out. 

"Goodbye, Cro-Wait! Zira? What?" Aziraphale chased, but Crowley was already hopping into his Bentley.


	2. Brazil is Lovely This Time of Year

_December 31st, 1999_

Aziraphale had flown across the ocean, just for this moment. He checked to see if anybody from the Head Office was watching, and sighed in relief. The crowds were huge, and Aziraphale couldn't have been bothered to deal with them. People, at least crowds of thousands (maybe even millions), are certainly not his thing. He had gone through a complicated series of reservations to guarantee that he would have a room with a balcony on this special eve so that he could step out and watch the world at the turn of the new millennium. He poured himself the smallest cup of whiskey and stepped out. Only 3 minutes to go until midnight.

"Aziraphale, is that you?" He heard from next to him. Aziraphale shut his eyes, begging that perhaps they had the wrong person. He set the small cup of whiskey on the banister and took a deep breath. This was his moment, his singular moment to enjoy by himself, and-

"Aziraphale!" The voice called again. Aziraphale reluctantly opened his eyes and turned to the right, to see Crowley climbing on top of the banister from his own balcony, right next door.

"Crowley! What in heaven's name are you doing?" Aziraphale yelped.

"I'm coming over there!" Crowley announced as though it was blatantly obvious. He went to flip his long red hair back, out of his face, and his sunglasses flew off, barreling towards the ground hundreds of feet below. Aziraphale looked around, as they were at least 20 floors up.

"Oh for Heaven's sake! Why didn't you just come to the door?" Aziraphale cried.

"It was easier this way," Crowley grunted, as he extended his long left leg over to Aziraphale's balcony.

"And what if you fall?" Aziraphale asked, rightfully so.

"Already did once," Crowley winked. Aziraphale sighed, heading over to his balcony, ready to grab Crowley if he needed it. Luckily for Crowley, the balconies were not much more than a couple of feet apart. Crowley extended his right arm over, and slowly brought his right leg up.

"This is ridiculous, Crowley," Aziraphale sighed.

"Oh, shut up," Crowley answered, finally connecting his left arm to Aziraphale's balcony. He swung himself over, falling onto the ground. "See, I'm good!" Aziraphale shook his head and extended his arm out to Crowley.

"What impresses me most is that even at the biggest party of the century, you're still dressed like a prick," Crowley sneered, taking Aziraphale's hand to help himself up. Aziraphale was certainly dressed in his usual, with the blue bow tie. It was just supposed to be himself anyway. He sighed, looking Crowley up and down in the process. Crowley had dressed in his leather jacket, vest, gray tie, and black shirt, with a long black overcoat as well. Aziraphale stared.  

 _Yes, of course._ He thought.  _As though you're not as well._

Aziraphale couldn't help but smirk at Crowley having climbed over the balconies just to get to his. "Well, it's good to see you," He smiled.

"Oi, shut it. They're about to do the thing," Crowley announced, pointing to the huge countdown at the front of the crowd, on a huge screen. It was at 1 minute.

"We still have a second. What are you doing out here?" Aziraphale asked, softly placing his hand under his chin as he leaned on the banister.

"Well, these things only happen once a millennium, and the humans have finally figured that out," Crowley explained, leaning his left arm on the banister. Aziraphale was so excited about the new thousand years to come, he was looking all around. First, at the starts in the sky that had been created not so long ago by Gabriel and Raphael alongside God. Then, at the humans below, which had also not been created not so long ago, and he, as well as many other principalities, had been given the task of checking up on. Finally, at the countdown, as it went down to 30 seconds. The humans excitedly jumped around, enthused, and prepared for the new century. They were cuddling with one another, the emotions of the moment building. Aziraphale could feel all of the building love in the entirety of the world (really just New York, but we won't break his heart), and he could've burst from joy.

He was so excited, from the combination of love, memories, and time whisking away, that he didn't notice Crowley. Crowley, of course, didn't feel the love building in the entirety of the world, but he did see it. He could see the joy on Aziraphale's face, and his heart filled with joy for the moment. His right arm just seemed to naturally find his place wrapped around Aziraphale. As the humans loudly chanted down the seconds, Crowley watched Aziraphale just about burst. 

"Happy 2000!" The crowd from below cheered. Crowley and Aziraphale saw each of the couples find each other and kiss. It made Aziraphale happy but upset Crowley for a reason he couldn't identify. He finally noticed his arm around Aziraphale and held him a little bit tighter, but he was still feeling upset. He snapped his fingers and watched as one of the boyfriends down below kissed the wrong girl, causing a fight. Crowley felt satisfied at the small amount of hatred in the world for that moment.

Aziraphale, despite being overwhelmed by the amount of joy, noticed the small shift in the amount of joy and turned towards Crowley, still not really having noticed his arm around him. 

"What did you just do?" Aziraphale asked. Crowley could see the amount of happiness in his eyes. It was so abnormally high, that Crowley felt like the angel might even be dangerous. He was almost glowing, and his eyes looked like they were filled with fire. Oh, if he knew he had even lowered the amount of happiness by the smallest amount, Aziraphale could've snapped his neck, right then and there, just blinded by the amount of joy he felt.

"Oh, nothing," Crowley answered, shaking his head, and maintaining his arm around Aziraphale. Aziraphale, still smiling turned back towards the crowds, filled with happiness. Over the next few moments, as things calmed down, and Aziraphale was no longer blinded by the amount of joy across the world, he finally noticed Crowley's arm around him. He felt his cheeks heat up.

"What's up?" Crowley asked, looking at Aziraphale, watching as he shied away, hiding his cheeks with both of his hands.

"Oh, nothing," Aziraphale answered, through clasped hands. Crowley smiled and brought Aziraphale even closer with his arm. 

_2 years after Armagedidn't_

_(Present Day)_

Aziraphale turned the sign on his bookstore door from 'Open' to 'Closed.' It was Tuesday, after all, and he had things to tend to. Mostly, dishes. While Crowley's small human trait was sleeping, Aziraphale enjoyed eating. It was noticeable, not only from his slight weight gain over the years but also the number of dishes he had. Angels can't cook very well, but they can bake excellently, and Aziraphale does enjoy sweets. Aziraphale slowly washed each dish, being sure that the oldest ones were taken care of properly. Whenever he was doing something so mundane like this, he found his humming turn to soft singing. Angels may not dance (well, except for Aziraphale, those few times), but they sure do sing. Angelic choirs, unbeknownst to humans, rarely consist of more than a few angels. Most angels, when singing, actually can produce multiple notes at one time. Each one has a soprano, alto, tenor, and bass voice when singing. Demons, on the other hand, are completely tone deaf, although we're sure that if they just put some effort into it, they could be quite excellent. As for Aziraphale, Aziraphale rarely ever sings, because he knows that it is absolutely uncanny to hear 4 voices coming from one person. The angel though, when left alone, and to his own devices, will slowly find his humming turn to actual singing.

 _"Somewhere...over the rainbow,"_ Aziraphale quietly sang.  _"Way up high."_

 _"There's a land that..."_ Aziraphale sang, getting slightly louder.  _"I've heard of once in a lullaby."_

And soon enough, Aziraphale was dancing that old gentleman's club dance around his kitchen while holding pots and pans, singing along to his favorite song. 

Downstairs, Crowley had entered inside the shop, ignoring the closed sign. He had just taken a 6 month holiday, and when he returned, the first person he had to see was Aziraphale. It had been 2 years since they had spoken, except for phone calls every so often. The first few times it seemed like they were just catching each other's answering machines. It then became apparent that they simply wanted to do different things with their new found freedom. For Crowley, this meant doing stupid things in other countries, and almost getting himself discorporated at least 5 times. For Aziraphale, this meant reading all of the new books that had appeared in his shop since Adam had rebuilt it. Both of them had found themselves back in Tadfield every so often checking up on Adam, always managing to miss each other my just minutes. In the grand scheme of things, to the two at least, two years was nothing. Neither of them could shake the feeling though, that it was inherently wrong to some degree.

Crowley looked around the shop, putting out his cigarette at the door. The shop had already burned down once, and he couldn't even bear to think of fire in Aziraphale's shop. "Aziraphale?" He called.

_"Someday I'll wish upon a star!"_

Crowley heard the singing from upstairs. "I'm gone for how long? And he starts a church choir?" Crowley mumbled shaking his head. Aziraphale might be having fun with all of those guys upstairs, but Crowley just couldn't wait to see him. Crowley ran up the stairs and pressed his ear to the door.

 _"Where bluebirds fly!"_ The chorus sang.

Crowley slowly opened the door, just enough to peek inside. Instead, he just saw Aziraphale doing a personal kickline with a bundt pan. Crowley shook his head and thought about the best possible routes. He could either allow the angel just to finish his fun or...

"Welcome to Trinity College Choir, Angel!" He cheered, bursting in through the door. Aziraphale screamed, dropping the bundt pan, causing it to make a loud clang. 

"Crowley!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. 

"Hello, it's good to see you," Crowley smirked. Aziraphale looked very put off, putting his hands firmly on his hips.

"Well, yes it's good to see you too. When you aren't bursting in through my door, anyway. Why are you here?" Aziraphale asked, disappointedly picking up his bundt pan. The rest of the dishes would have to wait.

"Well, I went to Brazil for a couple of months, caused some chaos, and the moment I got off the plane, I knew I had to see you."

Aziraphale lit up, a smile beaming across his face. He wouldn't have admitted it, but his heart skipped a beat learning that he was the first person Crowley wanted to see after a long trip. 

"Oh...well...hello!" Aziraphale cheered.

Crowley smirked. He knew exactly how to perk Aziraphale back up again. "Did you want to head up to the park? Catch up? I'll buy you an ice lolly," Crowley tempted.

Aziraphale thought about it for less than a second, his brain immediately going to the ice lolly, then to chatting up Crowley. "Yes, of course," Aziraphale chuckled. The two headed down and out to Crowley's Bentley. Aziraphale paused before getting in the car, taking a deep breath, and mumbling a small prayer to God to help him. He sat down, and Crowley turned on the car, immediately sending it to top speed. Aziraphale held tightly onto the seat, putting his trust in that prayer. As Crowley pulled up to St. James' Park and parked the Bentley on the sidewalk, Aziraphale quietly thanked God and sighed, relieved. 

Crowley ran in front of Aziraphale (he knew that even if Aziraphale liked running, there was no way he would even be able to catch up with his long legs) and purchased their ice creams.

"You didn't have to buy it for me. It was my turn," Aziraphale answered.

"It's not a problem, Aziraphale. So tell me. What did you do for the past 2 years?" Crowley asked handing Aziraphale the ice cream. Crowley immediately began snacking on his ice lolly, while Aziraphale shortcircuited. 

Aziraphale's thoughts were running through his head at a million light years a minute. He could tell Crowley that he hadn't done much which wasn't false or tell him the complete and utter truth. The complete truth was that, for about a year, Aziraphale just waited for Crowley to come back. That doesn't mean to say that he waited at his front door for an entire year, but rather he continued to operate as though it was business as usual. Open the bookstore, sometimes (keep it close, most times), and stand around waiting for life to happen to him. Aziraphale didn't even have Michael, Gabriel, or Sandalphon to come and mess with him. They were all playing keep away with the two, absolutely terrified of them since the whole incident. Of course, he had done standard angelic things: save a child here or there, bless someone's relationship, stop a car crash even. Once it went into the second year, he tried to forget about Crowley to some degree, but he couldn't help but shake the feeling that he wanted something more. Ever since their whole trial with the apocalypse, Aziraphale had realized he wanted and was meant to, spend much more time with Crowley. 

"Well...I..." Aziraphale stuttered out. "Oh, let me just be honest with you and spit it out. I just waited for you to come back."

Crowley was taken aback. Whenever Crowley called, Aziraphale seemed to be busy, and eventually, they just seemed to fall out of contact. "Well, I called."

"Yes, but you know how worried I get and how forgetful I can be. And for that matter, how busy the bookshop can be. I suppose I thought that, as per usual, if I failed to call you back, you would just show up to the bookstore. But you never did. Well, I mean, you did today, finally."

Crowley suddenly felt a little bad. That was the pattern they had created over the years. Aziraphale would be, well, a bit distant, and Crowley would have to chase him down. This time, Crowley figured, after the apocalypse, that things would be different. Maybe that Aziraphale would even stop by his place instead. It occurred to him finally, that they both wanted the same thing: to be with each other far more. They had just failed to realize the roles both of them had in that process. Crowley had spent the first year of their two apart, thinking that Aziraphale was avoiding him, when nothing had even changed. Things returned to normal, as they had been before the apocalypse, and Crowley thought they would've changed  _in a different way._ The second year, Crowley spent trying to forget Aziraphale, figuring he would have to spend the next 6,000 years with a different best friend (although secretly, deep, deep, down in his barren soul, Crowley hoped that just like she had done before, God would manage to bring them together in mysterious ways). 

"I'm sorry," Crowley apologized. "I guess that's how things were, weren't they?"

Aziraphale thought about that. That was, of course, the way things  _were_ but they weren't the way things had to be  _now._ "Well, things can be different now. You said you had gone to Brazil? How was that trip?"

At this moment, Crowley was very thankful Aziraphale didn't pay much attention to the news. When Crowley attempted to forget about 6,000 years of memories with Aziraphale, he couldn't just drink that away. In a moment of absolute intelligence, he decided, the answer to this problem, was to distract himself by creating a massive heist. Crowley didn't feel like explaining that he was suddenly 4 rare plants, and 4 million Brazilian Reals richer. Crowley was the king of minor inconveniences, and that oil baron was not immune to them. Although, as he thought about it, maybe that one was a bit more than minor. And for that matter, maybe it was a bit of an overreaction.

"It was...wonderful. Spent a couple of weeks on the beach," Crowley shrugged. By the beach, he meant an underground bunker, where he avoided police that were searching for not only him but 4 of his henchmen. 

"Oh, the beach!" Aziraphale sighed excitedly. "It's been so long since I've been to the beach."

"I can tell. You're as pale as bones," Crowley smirked.

Aziraphale's jaw dropped slightly. How offensive! Nevertheless, he found himself smiling. Oh, this feeling he could, of course, recognize:  _love_. "Oh, something is happening in this park!" He cheered excitedly.

"What?" Crowley questioned, furrowing his eyebrows. 

"Love! There's love here right now!" Aziraphale smiled. 

"Bullshit. You don't feel anything," Crowley rolled his eyes, feeling shielded by his sunglasses.

"No. Really! It's here!" Aziraphale announced. 

Aziraphale could always sense when a place was suddenly bubbling with love. A couple proposing, or maybe a soon-to-be-mother revealing her pregnancy. It's not just your standard, run of the mill first date, or even the small, notable moments. It's the big moments that fuel a place with love. Moments no one will ever forget. Crowley, on the other hand, could feel hatred. To fill a place with hatred, you couldn't just have a domestic. You had to create yourself an enemy or be around one. It was much more than just a mild complaint, it was complete and utter disbelief and dislike for another living thing. Aziraphale could also, sometimes, see that another person was glowing with love for someone else. If he knew the person really well, he could even sense when they were feeling lovely, although it was much weaker than the euphoria he felt when a place was fueled with plenty of love. 

"Maybe it's those ducks over there," Crowley shrugged pointing to a pair of mating ducks.

"No, of course not. It's...oh, it's so nice," Aziraphale sighed, smiling, just enjoying the moment. He finally began to eat off of his ice lolly, apparently a little too distracted by finally meeting up with Crowley again. It had begun to melt. 

"I think it's just those ducks," Crowley mumbled. "So, how has the bookshop been?"

"All of the books Adam left me were absolutely, well, divine," Aziraphale shrugged. "Speaking of Adam, have you seen the boy lately?"

"Well, we spent 11 years raising the wrong one. Of course, I had to check up on him. It would be rude not to."

"Since when have you cared about being rude, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked.

"Since when have you decided to have sass? You're supposed to be the nice one," Crowley laughed. Aziraphale looked surprised, but then became suddenly aware of the joke, chuckling softly. 

"We should head there together next time!" Aziraphale cheered. 

"Oh, of course," Crowley said, nervously covering up his blushing cheeks. After 6,000 years, you would think he wouldn't get so sensitive about the idea of them doing anything together (especially  _planning_ to do it together). 

"He's turned out to be quite the boy. Can you believe he's 13 already? And he's so excellent. So smart," Aziraphale smiled.

"Yeah. Quite the boy," Crowley sighed. Aziraphale could go on and on about anyone he perceived as 'good.' Crowley wouldn't say it since talking about them clearly made Aziraphale happy, but he always got sick to the stomach when the angel went on and on about someone being so 'good.' Although considering it tends to just be Aziraphale, and it always happens at this park, perhaps he's just lactose intolerant. 

He reached into his coat pocket feeling the item he had gotten for Aziraphale while in Brazil. "I got you something," Crowley sighed. He pulled out the book. An original manuscript of the book  _Macunaíma_ by Mário de Andrade. It certainly wasn't a book of prophecy, but it was still ridiculously rare, and insanely difficult to find. In fact, there as only one copy of it in the world. Aziraphale looked at the book and was immediately overwhelmed. He gently took it out of Crowley's hands, as he had to be sure that he handled it as carefully as possible.

"Oh my. This is...this is...well, it's wonderful! Thank you, my dear!" His hands found Crowley's arm which he gently squeezed.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. It wasn't a problem," Crowley sighed, smiling just a little at Aziraphale's reaction.


	3. What Ever Did Happen That Night?

8 _hours after Armagedidn't_

Crowley unlocked the door to his flat, and Aziraphale followed him inside. “So um...you can take my bedroom and I can take the couch,” Crowley shrugged.

”Oh. I don’t sleep. It’s quite alright,” Aziraphale shrugged.

”No, no. It’s much more comfortable if you’re just going to sit and read,” Crowley shrugged.

”These are lovely plants!” Aziraphale cheered running towards them.

”Don’t tell them that. So...you’re going to take the bedroom then?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale was too distracted by the plants to even pay attention to the discussion beforehand.

”These are lovely, my dear. Everything about them,” Aziraphale sighed. “I’m mostly impressed you could take care of living things besides for yourself.”

“Stop complimenting them. They’re not so hard to take care of,” Crowley shrugged, walking over towards them with the spray bottle. The one who sat next to the one he had destroyed not too long ago started shaking violently as he approached it.

”What have you done?” Crowley whispered menacingly.

”You’re scaring the poor thing!” Aziraphale gasped.

”Yeah...how do you think they stay so nice?” Crowley asked. He looked the plant up and down scanning it as it continued to shake.

”What did you do?” He screamed at the plant. The plant continued to shake. Crowley sighed, shaking his head, and just went around spraying them with water.

Aziraphale watched in absolute shock. “You’ve terrorized them,” he mumbled.

”Yeah. They’re plants,” Crowley shrugged yet again. Aziraphale took a moment to calm himself before quietly whispering something encouraging to the plant next to him, low enough where Crowley couldn’t hear him. The plant settled down and relaxed. Aziraphale smiled to himself.

”Anyway, Angel. Are you taking the bedroom?”

”Oh, I just couldn’t,” Aziraphale sighed.

”You’re making this difficult. Keep making it difficult and we’re both having the bedroom,” Crowley joked.

”Oh, well that doesn’t sound too bad,” Aziraphale smiled. “We still need to figure out this blasted prophecy.”

Crowley momentarily froze as he misted the last plant, trying to process what Aziraphale had just suggested. “Yeah. Why don’t we go over that?” He asked.

Crowley and Aziraphale headed back to Crowley’s bedroom, where they both sat on the edge of his bed. Aziraphale took out the prophecy.

” _When alle is fayed and all is done, ye must choofe your faces wisely, for soon enouff ye will be playing with fyre,”_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Aziraphale read.

“Well, let’s take it one part at a time,” Crowley explained. He took off his sunglasses, throwing them so they landed perfectly on his nightstand. 

“When alle is fayed, and all is done...so obviously about the apocalypse being avoided,” Aziraphale shrugged.

”Ye must choofe your faces wisely,” Crowley read, very confused.

”For soon enouff ye will be playing with fire,” Aziraphale sighed. “Well, we’re 1/3rd through.”

”You’re sure this wasn’t about your bookshop?” Crowley questioned.

”That already happened and had absolutely nothing to do with choosing faces,” Aziraphale sighed.

”Fire. Fire though. When I went to the bookshop and saw it was on fire, I presumed the worst,” Crowley explained.

”That I had been discorporated by it?”

”No. That you had been destroyed by it.”

”Oh, well, that, my dear, can only happen with hellfire. No reason to worry,” Aziraphale smiled.

”Ugh! It’s that double-dealing son-of-a-bitch Michael. I always knew she had something going on. I never trusted her. Not when I worked with her, and certainly not now,” Crowley jumped up, shaking his head.

”What are you on about?” Aziraphale asked.

”Isn’t it obvious? Agnes Nutter wrote these prophecies for you. Directed towards you. She knew I don’t read,” Crowley sighed. “Michael...Michael has connections with hell. She uses them all the time. She’s going to use them to get hellfire. To execute you.”

Aziraphale gasped. “You think? I thought I might just get discorporated...but destroyed?”

”I know each of our head offices like the back of my hand. If I’m thinking correctly, then it’s a trade-off. Destruction for destruction. They’ll use holy water for me then,” Crowley sighed.

”Well...at least we’ll be together,” Aziraphale sighed, attempting to think positively.

”Aziraphale, we’ll be destroyed. Not chilling together with our feet kicked up in the last circle of hell. We’ll be nada. Nothing. We won’t fucking exist,” Crowley complained. “But Agnes Nutter wouldn’t write down a fuck you to us. Choose your faces wisely...”

Aziraphale facepalmed and looked at Crowley. “We are absolute idiots,” Aziraphale smirked. He checked to make sure no one at head office was watching.

”Wasn’t that blatantly obvious an apocalypse ago?” Crowley asked.

”No, my dear. I’ve figured it out. Which one of us can withstand holy water?” Aziraphale questioned.

”You, obviously. That stuff courses through your veins.”

”And which one of us can withstand hellfire?”

”Me, obviously...Oh my God!” Crowley said, grabbing Aziraphale by the shoulders. “Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!”

”But how do we do it?” Aziraphale asked. 

“We just...momentarily vacate our respective corporal vessels,” Crowley shrugged.

”And? When they collapse on the floor?”

”We each just momentarily enter the respective corporal vessels,” Crowley answered. “Here, I’m sure it’s easy.”

Crowley pulled up Aziraphale and held his hand. “We’ll just simultaneously possess each other. Just like you did to the madame earlier.”

”It can’t be that easy,” Aziraphale sighed. “Have you ever even possessed anything?”

”This smoking hot bod,” Crowley smirked. Aziraphale rolled his eyes. 

“Fine. Let’s try this. On the count of 3. 3...2...1!”

Aziraphale managed his way into Crowley’s body. 

“Oh. Oops,” Crowley sighed.

”What do you mean oops? Oh my-“ Aziraphale managed to say though Crowley’s body. Two souls stuck within the same body. An angel and a demon. They looked at Aziraphale’s body laying on the floor, limp.

Crowley-as-Crowley laughed hard, as Aziraphale forced himself to the front of the body.

”I thought you said you knew how to do this?” He asked.

”I never said that,” Crowley answered. 

“Lord help us. Just...kick yourself out! Or I’ll have to!”

”Have to what?”

”Exorcise you!”

"Oh, sure, Angel. And how are you going to do that?" Crowley asked.

"Like this!" 

Aziraphale, sure enough, managed to force Crowley out of the body, sending Crowley's discorporated spirit down to the floor. 

"Hey! That's my body you're in!" Crowley shouted back.

"And that's my body you're not in! Get in there, now!" Aziraphale yelled back. Crowley groaned, his spirit staring down at the corpse.

"I don't know how, alright?" Crowley answered.

"You're a demon! Isn't that your whole thing? Possessing things?" 

"Yes...but it's not really my speed! I'm more of a shapeshifter-wily-serpent kind of guy."

"Oh, can I shapeshift?" Aziraphale whispered. He grunted in Crowley's body, attempting to turn into a snake. "I suppose not."

"Of course not. Anyway, how do you do it?" Crowley urged. He was still smiling slightly at Aziraphale's terrible attempt to turn into a snake.

"You just sort of...Oh, I don't know! It's very natural for me! And for that matter, it should be for you too."

"As I said, I'm not that kind of demon!"

"Well...I don't know. Just try to fall into it? Sort of like you're hugging the body, I suppose?"

" _Hugging?_ Isn't that a little bit more your speed?"

"Crowley, don't act like you've never hugged someone before. You hugged me all the way back in Jericho, 2201 BCE."

"Did I?" Crowley questioned. He was feigning ignorance. Of course, he remembered, but yet again, that was more Aziraphale's speed. 

"Just, do it!" Aziraphale stressed, becoming increasingly uncomfortable by his body laying there on the floor.

"Fine, fine," Crowley sighed. He leaned into it, attempting to 'hug' it as Aziraphale would say. It wasn't working though. He leaned more and more into it. It turned into more of a strangulation than anything and included quite a bit of discomfort. Of course, Aziraphale would describe something as ridiculously disconcerting like this as 'hugging.' It was definitely more of a choking than anything else. Suddenly, a click. He was there, in his rightful place. Well, not exactly rightful. 

"Alright. Here I am," Crowley said, standing up in Aziraphale's body and brushing himself off. 

"Oh! Excellent! I knew you could do it," Aziraphale said, placing his hands at his waist, and practically cheering. 

"Do not do that in my body. It looks so unnatural," Crowley shook his head. He leaned against the wall, preparing to reach into his pocket and grab a cigarette, only to fail to. 

Aziraphale sighed, reaching into Crowley's pocket and taking out the pack and his lighter.

"You know heaven is a non-smoking area, right?" Aziraphale asked. 

"Yeah, of course. Calm down, angel," Crowley sighed, handing Aziraphale a cigarette out of his own pack and lighting it for him. Smoking in Crowley's body was not what Aziraphale imagined when he thought to himself 'I'd like to be closer to Crowley,' but here he was anyway.

”Perhaps this time we can try a full switch,” Aziraphale offered.

”What do you mean?” Crowley asked, taking another puff from his cigarette.

”Both our bodies and spirits!” Aziraphale cheered, staring at his own cigarette.

Crowley threw his (well Aziraphale’s) head back and sighed deeply. “This is going to take a lot of work.”

”Would you rather be dead?”

_2 years after Armagedidn't_

_(Present Day)_

Of course, it had been a problem for Crowley to get the book. You can't very well waltz into an oil tycoon's house and expect everything to be absolutely dandy. Crowley had expertly planned for him, and several henchmen to enter the house. While the henchmen would grab the money stashed away in a secret vault, Crowley would intelligently operate, sneaking through the home in near silence, managing to enter into the library and take the singular copy of this extremely rare book. It was made much easier once he thought up the idea of shapeshifting into a snake. He didn't need Aziraphale to know the full story though. All Aziraphale needed to know was that he got the book through quite the effort in Brazil. That's all. Crowley just sort of prayed he wouldn't end up on some sort of international most wanted list. That would surely put a wrench in his plans. 

“Aziraphale...do you remember that night you spent at my flat?”

”How could I forget spending 4 hours trying to teach you how to possess something properly?” Aziraphale asked, chuckling softly.

”I was talking more about after that,” Crowley smirked. He took out his pack of cigarettes, and placed one in his mouth. He handed the pack to Aziraphale.

”Oh, no I quit. Don’t want to be inconveniently discorporated like that,” Aziraphale shook his head. Crowley went to light the cigarette but groaned to himself, instead electing to throw the whole pack away. 

“Fine,” he mumbled.

”You didn’t have to stop,” Aziraphale shook his head.

”Yeah. And what? Every time you see from now on, you’ll just go on and on about how you don’t want to see me discorporated. It’s alright. Anyway, do you remember?”

”I’ve been trying to forget,” Aziraphale sighed, his cheeks heating up in the process.

After Crowley had finally gotten the hang of possession, they had taken a walk. Most of the time they saw the city together at night, they were far too drunk to enjoy themselves properly. They were sober though, and sober enough to have sober thought. Crowley had told Aziraphale about how he didn’t want to be separated from him again, and Aziraphale told him the same thing. 

“Well, I haven’t forgotten. How did we end up being apart for two years then?” Crowley asked.

”We are an angel and a demon, Crowley. Did you expect it to be quite so easy to stay together? To be quite so easy to be on our own side?”

”Yeah, a little. We had just gone through the most difficult week of our existences. I figured you might have been a little bit more receptive to the concept.”

”It’s difficult,” Aziraphale explained. He realized though, being without word from head office for 2 years, that it wasn’t as hard as he was making it out to be. Heaven had tried to destroy him. They obviously didn’t care.

“I know. But here we are now, right?” Crowley asked.

”Sure. And what would you like to do, then?” Aziraphale asked.

”Well, eh...uh,” Crowley stumbled. “Ngh.”

”Exactly,” Aziraphale answered. Aziraphale began to walk away. “Thank you for the ice lolly. It’s nice to see you back. The bookshop is lonely without you. Stop by every so often.”

”Yes, see that’s the thing,” Crowley mumbled.

“What is it?” Aziraphale asked. He turned back towards Crowley placing his hand on his shoulder. “What’s got you bothered like this?”

”The bookshop. It’s lonely without me,” Crowley chuckled, his cheeks blushing in the process.

”Well, it is. I can only reorganize everything so often without having someone to come in and mess with them,” Aziraphale explained.

”Ah. Is that it?” Crowley asked. Of course. Friendly again. Just friendly.

”Mmhmm, my dear. Well, that, and I don’t have anyone else to spend eternity with,” Aziraphale smiled.

”Me neither!” Crowley yelled, grabbing onto Aziraphale’s shoulders. 

“Is that all you’ve been trying to say? I thought we determined that a millennia ago.”

”Not quite like this. No, not quite like this,” Crowley smiled, taking a deep breath of relief. He still did have a shot at this.

Aziraphale had no idea what was going on inside of Crowley’s head, but he knew whatever it was, it was clearly bothering him. Aziraphale knew what was going on inside of his own head though. He knew that for months he hadn’t been waiting for Crowley to walk in through his bookshop doors. He knew that all he wanted was for Crowley to say three words. “I’m here, angel.” That’s all. Just...be there. Just be there for him. To keep him grounded.

Crowley knew exactly what was going on inside of his own head as well. He wanted to spend as much time with Aziraphale as possible, whether it was just sitting next to him as he read or if it was travelling the world with him. He could do anything else Aziraphale needed, but he needed Aziraphale to just be there. Things weren’t as easy as just saying that though. 


End file.
